


My Patron Saint Of Blood And Bone

by 13Kat13



Series: These Rotten Scriptures [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Dom Victor Nikiforov, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, It's angsty but set prior to the last fic, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Possessive Behavior, Russian Mafia, Service dom victor, Submissive Yuuri, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, What do you mean Victor carries Yuuri too much, Yakuza, Yakuza Katsuki Yuuri, You'll have to pry it out of my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 17:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16727925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: A red, mesh negligee of the softest silk blend, the bralet lined with lace. The mesh is transparent, so Victor can see the thin gold chain circling Yuuri’s waist, connected to the choker that’s visible now Yuuri’s shirt collar is out of the way. The choker is a thin, black leather band, looks more like a dog collar than anything else.Yuuri leans forward, lets Victor read the curling inscription on the gold pendent hanging from the collar.StarProperty of Victor Nikiforov[Third in the mafia au series, but set before the end of the first fic. While Victor and Yuuri still have to keep their relationship secret, they've never been able to spend a Valentine's Day together. Until now.]





	My Patron Saint Of Blood And Bone

**Author's Note:**

> So I dithered over uploading this honestly. I have several more in this series already written, but as the last one got a very disproportionate number of kudos to views it kinda makes me think no one’s interested? I dunno. But I like this one so go nuts.
> 
> This is set before the end of Let's Burn Together, when Victor and Yuuri's relationship is still a secret.
> 
> WARNING: Minor name calling during sex. All very consensual and fun though, and lots of praise thrown in too.

It’s Valentine's and Yuuri is determined to have at least one with Victor. It’s been three years, and they’ve not spent a single one together. A text on a very secret second phone to say I love you doesn’t feel like enough, not when his heart aches for touch, for words said in person, kisses exchanged and the sweet ache of Victor inside him.

 

Yuuri got held up by a late shipment he was supposed to inspect. Then there’d been trouble with the shipment and fuck he can’t miss another year. Not when they don’t spend birthdays or Christmas or new years together. Well, there had been that time Victor turned up at his flat for one of Yuuri's birthdays. Yuuri had been planning to spend a quiet night relaxing with a glass of wine, when there’d been a knock on his door. He’d grabbed his gun and slipped over to the door, the hallway dark as he crept down it. He’d opened the door… and there he was. In his dark trench coat, just a waistcoat over his shirt underneath. And Victor had looked so painfully beautiful in that moment that Yuuri wondered what god was cruel enough to damn him to this constant longing.

 

Victor had looked him up and down, and Yuuri had blushed at the inspection. No one ever saw him like this; sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair free of product and glasses on. And Victor’s face had broken into a radiant smile.

 

“Moya zvezda,” he’d murmured, stepping into the flat as though Yuuri’s invitation to enter was a foregone conclusion, which of course it was. “Look at you.”

 

Yuuri had shut the door and crossed his arms over his chest, self conscious and not enjoying it.

 

“What’re you doing here? Anyone could’ve seen you,” Yuuri had hissed.

 

“I was careful.”

 

Yuuri sighed and rubbed the heel of the hand holding his gun against his temple.

 

“Oh don’t be like that,” Victor had pouted, stepping in close and gathering Yuuri up to press kisses all over his face. “I _missed_ you. And it’s your birthday. And I’m so happy I get to see you like this, you’re so cute!”

 

Yuuri had thumped a hand half heartedly against Victor’s chest, but they’d gone and cuddled in front of the TV anyway. Then Victor had given him a gorgeous set of cufflinks with emeralds set into them, and then they’d had _a lot_ of birthday sex. And in the morning, waking with Victor in _his_ bed, not just on some anonymous hotel sheets, had been something like heaven.

 

In the present, Yuuri’s ducking around a group of late night revellers, who whistle at him in his sharp cut suit. Yuuri flashes them a grin, but hurries on.

 

The hotel is one of Victor’s usual over the top fancy places. Yuuri skids into the marble foyer, gets the keycard off the front desk and hurries into the elevators. He straightens himself in the mirror, smoothing his hair back into place and checking his eyeliner, of which he wears just a touch. He also takes a moment to apply lipstick, something he’s never done for Victor, but has a feeling the man will like.

 

Moments later he’s standing before the door of room 265, slotting the keycard into place before turning the handle.

 

The room is dimly lit; low lamplight and candles. There are red petals on the floor. Yuuri smiles, takes off his shoes, and follows the trail of rose petals through the lounge to the double bedroom door. The doors are closed, and Yuuri takes a breath before reaching out and sliding them open.

 

Victor is sat on the bed, the rose petals leading to him like the best kind of treasure map. One of his legs is folded over the other and he’s already free of his suit jacket, just his shirt and gun holsters remaining. Victor’s sleeves are rolled up to expose the lean muscle of his forearms and there’s a glass of lusciously dark red wine in his hand. The other hand is propping him up, so he sits slightly reclined, the picture of indolence.

 

He’s gorgeous, and the sight of him after so long makes Yuuri’s breath catch in his throat. And how does he live without this? The sight of Victor, so achingly beautiful that to call him a work of art would be an understatement. The feel of his eyes on Yuuri. The weight of his presence. To be near him is like stepping into a holy space. Yuuri always ends up thinking of churches when they’re together, because their love is something divine, something beyond their mortal bodies, and deserves every ounce of worship, every sacrifice they can give it.

 

Victor regards Yuuri through hooded eyes over the rim of his wine glass. He takes in the red of Yuuri’s lips, the liner on his eyes and the highlighter on his cheeks. And Yuuri watches as the heat coils in him, like a snake ready to strike.

 

“Come here,” Victor orders, voice soft but the command firm.

 

And Yuuri’s knees feel like they’re about to give out but he makes it over to stand before Victor. Victor regards him for a moment, drinking in the sight of him after so long apart. He takes a sip of wine, then offers the glass to Yuuri. Yuuri takes it and finishes the glass. Victor raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“You’re late,” Victor says, and god the fire in his voice makes Yuuri want to paw at him while kneeling, makes him want to beg like he does for no one else.

 

And sometimes they are late to their planned meetups. It happens when one is as important as they both are in their respective organisations. But Victor wants to play with him tonight, Yuuri knows. So he bites his lip and fiddles with the edge of his jacket, making his eyes go wide and apologetic.

 

“I didn’t mean to be,” he says, voice innocent and just a little breathy.

 

It’s obviously an act, so very not Yuuri, who’d usually raise an eyebrow and say “what of it?” But Victor’s eyes flash hot at the play.

 

“Strip,” he orders, and Yuuri practically throws the wineglass aside.

 

He takes it slow with his clothes, makes each move look deliberate, but like he doesn’t care too much, like he’s simply being self indulgent rather than trying to put on a show for Victor. Yuuri slips off his jacket first, lets Victor do his holsters because it’s important. Then his socks go. Yuuri bites his lip and lets his brow furrow slightly like he’s needy as he takes off his belt.

 

Victor’s gaze is hot and heavy, and Yuuri smirks at him as he unbuttons his suit pants. The pants slide to the floor, and for the first time Victor sees what Yuuri’s wearing beneath. Red lace, cutting over his hips and cheeks, cupping his growing hardness.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor breaths, and it’s obviously a relief for him to finally say Yuuri’s name, as he’s only allowed to do when they’re alone like this.

 

“Happy Valentine's,” Yuuri says, unbuttoning his shirt, and letting that fall away too so Victor can fully see what he’s wearing beneath.

 

A red, mesh negligee of the softest silk blend, the bralet lined with lace. The mesh is transparent, so Victor can see the thin gold chain circling Yuuri’s waist, connected to the choker that’s visible now Yuuri’s shirt collar is out of the way. The choker is a thin, black leather band, looks more like a dog collar than anything else.

 

Yuuri leans forward, lets Victor read the curling inscription on the gold pendent hanging from the collar.

 

_Star_

_Property of Victor Nikiforov_

 

Yuuri ordered it under a different name obviously, paid in cash and made sure his face wasn’t visible to any cameras in the store. It still gave him quite the thrill. To think that this choker could be the reason they were discovered, and Yuuri in such a compromising position of being Victor’s pet.

 

Victor snaps. He grabs Yuuri and crushes their mouths together, dragging Yuuri into his lap so Yuuri groans into the kiss.

 

“Oh bunny,” Victor says when he breaks the kiss, breath hot and heavy against Yuuri’s lips. “I am going to ruin you.”

 

“Are you?” Yuuri says, a hint of a challenge in his voice so Victor growls and tosses him off his lap.

 

Yuuri almost falls to the floor, but Victor catches him, careful with him even now. And Yuuri sinks to the floor by his own volition. Victor towers over him, his eyes dark as he gazes down his long nose at Yuuri on his knees for him. Yuuri’s lipstick has smudged onto his mouth, and Yuuri imagines his own lips can’t be faring much better. He thrills with how debauched he must look.

 

Victor twists his fingers into Yuuri’s hair and tugs his head back, pulling ever so slightly, and Yuuri groans, his fingers digging into the meat of his own thighs.

 

“Who do you belong to?” Victor asks, and the danger in his voice makes Yuuri’s breathing come short.

 

“You,” he gasps.

 

“Who do you kneel for?”

 

“You, Vitya.”

 

“Who can make you scream, beg for it?”

 

“You. Only you, Vitya, please.”

 

“There it is,” Victor says, smirking down at him. And though he enjoys breaking Yuuri like this Victor breaks right along with him, both of them shattering so their pieces are all blended together, a catastrophic mosaic of their love.

 

Victor bends at the waist, grabs Yuuri’s chin with his other hand accompanied by a sharp jerk of his hair which makes Yuuri gasp.

 

“Are you going to be a good boy?” Victor asks, eyes hot with it, voice gravel.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri whimpers. “Anything you want, Vitya… please...”

 

“Fuck.”

 

The curse sounds torn from Victor, and his eyes rake over Yuuri’s face as though he’s starving for the sight of him. Then he kisses him, hot and fierce. Yuuri moans into his mouth.

 

“What do you want, baby?” Victor asks him then, running a thumb over his bottom lip.

 

“Want you to fuck me,” Yuuri whispers, his heart thumping in his ears.

 

And Yuuri usually has so much pride, would never let _anyone_ treat him like this, would never subject himself to this humiliation. But he gets off on it with Victor, can see how it’s tearing at Victor’s careful self control too. Because Victor loves to own Yuuri, to possess him in every way. And the sight of a collar proclaiming Victor’s ownership over him has Victor’s hands ever so slightly trembling. And that’s what does it for Yuuri. That he owns Victor right back, can reduce him to _this._

 

Victor pushes his thumb into Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri sucks on it, keeps his eyes locked with Victor’s so he doesn’t miss what this does to him. Victor watches Yuuri suck for a moment, eyes hot with it, then drags his thumb out of Yuuri’s mouth, pulls his bottom lip down as he goes. And he purposely smudges Yuuri’s lipstick now. He always did enjoy messing Yuuri up, taking his perfectly crafted mafia royalty look, and trashing it, making him a panting, flushed and filthy mess.

 

Victor straightens. He undoes his belt and Yuuri has to breath deeply as it clinks open. Then Victor’s unbuttoning his suit pants, tugging the zipper down. He pulls his cock free, and pushes his hips forward, grabbing Yuuri’s hair again to tug his head forward, and Yuuri’s eyes almost roll back.

 

“Suck,” Victor orders, and Yuuri takes that gorgeous cock into his mouth, sucks at the tip, before swallowing it all the way down.

 

Victor’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Yuuri whimpers around his cock, his own cock straining against his panties with how much he loves being used like this. Victor makes him work for a bit, makes him suck and lap and show just what a good boy he is. Then he starts fucking his hips forward. He goes deep but slow, checking Yuuri’s face to make sure he’s enjoying it, and Yuuri’s shaking, clutching Victor’s thighs as he moans.

 

“Oh baby,” Victor purrs, snapping his hips forward hard so Yuuri almost chokes on it before his eyes flutter closed. “You love this.”

 

Yuuri lets out a needy whimper. And Victor hushes him, runs a soothing hand over his cheek even as his other hand pulls his hair and his cock half chokes Yuuri.

 

Yuuri’s hips are rolling, trying to get friction against nothing. He won’t touch himself until Victor lets him, wanting to keep playing their game. But he’s desperate as he’s forced to gag on Victor’s cock, loves the feeling of being used.

 

There’s tears gathering in his now open eyes as his throat gets abused, and they roll down his cheeks, making Victor coo and wipe them away. But they smudge Yuuri’s liner, make him look even more of a wreck, and it’s this that has Victor fucking forward in fast, deep thrusts.

 

“Oh you’re so good, bunny,” Victor’s murmuring, voice breathless. “So good at taking my cock. God, you love it, such a slut for it.”

 

Yuuri whines, sharp and needy.

 

“Shhh, you’ll get what you need soon enough.”

 

And Yuuri moans in appreciation. Victor keeps fucking his hips forward until his hand tightens painfully in Yuuri’s hair and he spills down his throat, making Yuuri choke as he drives his cock in deep. Victor fucks forwards in tight little thrusts, until he slows, and slips out. His cock drags across Yuuri’s bottom lip, down his chin, so Yuuri’s face is wet, his makeup wrecked.

 

“Look at you,” Victor purrs as Yuuri gasps for breath, his eyes hazy with desire, painfully hard in his panties.

 

Yuuri has to be lifted off the floor by Victor, as he seems to have lost the function of his legs. Victor hefts him up into his arms in a bridal carry and carries him over to the bed. He kisses Yuuri tenderly before he sets him down. Yuuri pools into the bed, still in his panties and negligee, the picture of a willing, pampered pet. Victor bites his lips as he looks down at Yuuri, tugging his tie free.

 

“Stop,” Yuuri says, when Victor goes to start on his shirt buttons next, ignoring his holsters because Yuuri always does those. “I want you to keep it all on.”

 

Victor’s grin is wolfish.

 

“Do you perhaps,” Victor says, crawling forward onto the bed to loom over Yuuri, Yuuri’s legs willingly falling open for him to kneel between, “want to be fucked by the pakhan of the Russian bratva, bunny?”

 

Yuuri shivers, lets his head fall back to expose his neck in a display of complete submission as his eyes fall closed.

 

 _“Yess…”_ Yuuri breaths, surrendering to Victor’s undertow.

 

Yuuri feels Victor’s grin against his neck as he lays kisses down it.

 

“Shall I keep you as a trophy husband?” Victor asks. “Lavish you in expensive things that are worthy of being next to your skin. Diamonds, silk, lace, and fur. Shall I kill for you, then come home to you so you can get fucked until you scream for me?”

 

“Ah...” Yuuri’s little cry is breathy and full of need.

 

“Hmm…” Victor hums against Yuuri’s throat. “Yes I think you’d secretly like that. You’re tough, sharp as glass and hard as steel. But I think sometimes you want to be pampered, taken care of by your big strong man.”

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri whines. “Don’t tease.”

 

“Oh I’m not, bunny,” Victor says, kissing down his chest, his stomach. “I’d like it too. I’ve only ever wanted to be your devoted husband.”

 

And it’s this that fills Yuuri with a sudden, inescapable sadness. All the time they’ve spent apart, how often they’ve had to say goodbye, the fact that they’ll have to say goodbye when the sun rises tomorrow, it all yawns before him. Hits his lungs like physical blows. Yuuri lets out a sob, and presses his hands over his face.

 

“Oh… oh, honey, no,” Victor says, coming back up to gently tug Yuuri’s hands away from his face, to nuzzle at his cheek, press kisses all over Yuuri’s face, which usually has Yuuri laughing, but now just makes him cry harder. “Fuck, Yuuri, tell me what to do… I’m not good at this.”

 

And the panic in Victor’s voice is oddly reassuring. Victor Nikiforov, pakhan of the Russian bratva, can kill a man with his hands tied behind his back. But _Yuuri’s_ Victor panics when he makes Yuuri cry.

 

“Don’t…” Yuuri gasps, “have to do anything… just… stay.”

 

“Okay,” Victor agrees, looking very unnerved by Yuuri falling apart in front of him. And though Victor’s never been good at dealing with tears, he’s gotten slightly better, what with Yuuri being so emotional. Not that Yuuri _ever_ showed Victor this side to him at first. It took him a long time to crack. Two years in fact. And when he had it had been bad enough that Yuuri tried to end their relationship, in the rain, with the threat of a bullet if Victor came any closer.

 

Victor hugs him, lays on top of him so Yuuri feels weighed down, covered, safe.

 

The tears slow to a stop eventually, but now Yuuri’s face really is a mess, and not because of the sex. Victor grabs him some tissues off the side table, and Yuuri blows his nose and sorts his face out best he can, leaving only the smudged makeup that was there from Victor’s ministrations.

 

“Sorry,” Yuuri says after a moment, both of them sitting up now.

 

“It’s okay,” Victor assures him, though by the tilt of his mouth Yuuri knows Victor doesn’t like seeing him cry, and not just because he doesn’t know what to do to help. “What was it exactly?”

 

Yuuri hesitates. Then —

 

“You wanting to be my husband,” he whispers, bottom lip trembling. “And how we can’t have that.”

 

“We’ll have it someday,” Victor promises him, taking Yuuri’s hand and giving it a squeeze, looking oh so very sincere.

 

“How do you know?” Yuuri asks him, the crack in his chest feeling like it’s yawning, the tectonic plates of his soul shifting to shake him apart with this sadness. “How do you know we’ll be able to get away? Or what our people would do if they find out before we try? Or if one of us gets killed? My family’s already hinting at wanting to marry me off to whoever’s an advantageous match.”

 

“I’ll kill them,” Victor says, and Yuuri believes him without a doubt then, that Victor would murder whoever dares even look at Yuuri and think they can have him. “Only I get to have you like this.”

 

Yuuri gives him a wobbly smile.

 

“I know you would,” he says. “But still…”

 

“Yuuri,” Victor says, taking his shoulders so Yuuri’s looking at him properly. “We will be together properly someday. I promise. I will make it happen. And we’ll be married and have five children and seven dogs.”

 

“Seven dogs?” Yuuri laughs, already feeling more together because Victor’s actually better at this than he thinks he is.

 

“Okay, fine… ten dogs.”

 

Yuuri laughs, and then Victor’s kissing him, and it’s soft and tender and so full of love and all the promises Victor’s trying to tell him they can keep. It’s their future, folded between their mouths. Tears roll down Yuuri’s cheeks for a different reason now, just so full of emotion he can’t help it. The crack in his chest trembles, but then closes until at least the morning.

 

Victor lays him down gently. He pours worship over Yuuri’s body, kissing every inch of it, whispering gentle words that have Yuuri gasping at the praise. He feels like a thread unspooling, like a ship unanchored, and the only thing that’s holding him together is Victor, the touch of his hands, his mouth, the words on his lips.

 

Victor grabs lube from the side table and opens Yuuri up slowly, his panties pushed to the side and Victor’s mouth on the nipple through the mesh of his negligee. Yuuri writhes with it, fucks his hips back onto Victor’s fingers, whispers “please” out loud, but he’s really asking for more than Victor’s cock. He’s begging for mercy too, for anything Victor can give him, to be able to wake up one morning and not have to leave the man he lays next to. And perhaps Victor can hear the plea beyond Yuuri’s words as he kisses him softly. Perhaps he knows that Yuuri is asking for just a little longer, for just a promise that Victor will find a way, that there will be a day with no more goodbyes.

 

Victor watches him as he pumps his fingers in and out of Yuuri. He seems to take special pleasure in this, like it’s a service he craves. He watches Yuuri gasp, how his brow furrows, how his eyes go glazed and his mouth goes slack.

 

Then Yuuri’s clawing at Victor’s clothed shoulders, tugging at his holster straps, begging with real desperation now. But Victor makes him come first. Yuuri comes dry because Victor’s left his cock well alone, so he’s still painfully hard when Victor slips his own cock free.

 

And god, Yuuri wants him so badly. The sight of Victor looming over him, his signature silver hair, still in his shirt, his holster in place and the gold of his guns glinting in the low light.

 

“Fuck me hard,” Yuuri demands, because he thinks Victor might be tempted to go soft after the crying fit he just had.

 

Victor doesn’t ask if he’s sure. He just grins and pushes Yuuri’s legs further apart, makes him gasp at the feeling of being so exposed, stretched open for Victor to stare at. He gets tugged roughly into Victor’s lap, the slide of his suit pants beneath Yuuri’s cheeks making him bite his lip.

 

Victor teases him by rubbing his gorgeous cock between his cheeks, over his hole. Yuuri clenches his jaw, before relaxing and fixing Victor with a look, biting his lip before whimpering; “please… give your baby that cock.”

 

It’s so very out of character for Yuuri. But Victor growls and snaps forward into him so hard Yuuri feels the breath punched from his lungs. His eyes go wide, but Victor doesn’t give him time to adjust. He starts fucking Yuuri in hard, deep thrusts that have Yuuri shouting to the ceiling.

 

He’s lost in it for a while, just getting pounded into the bed as Victor mercilessly uses his body. But then he’s arching into it, loving how Victor’s still holding his legs so far apart as he stuffs that fat cock repeatedly into Yuuri’s hole.

 

And Yuuri can’t stop his mouth, he’s crying out, practically screaming as Victor fucks him hard enough to make him forget everything but the man above him. And the only words he remembers are “yes” and “Vitya” and “fuck”. But it doesn’t matter, because Victor feels so good inside him, over him, pounding into him like he fully intends to ruin Yuuri as he promised.

 

Then Yuuri’s getting manhandled onto his front, then up onto his knees. Victor makes him move forward, Yuuri half drunk with how turned on he is, and slams him into the headboard. It’s then that the negligee tears, Victor stripping it from his body so it falls in tatters to the bed. His panties get ripped off too, and it’s so fucking hot Yuuri can’t even be mad about it. Victor’s clothes go too, Yuuri reaching back to touch the guns as they slide off, an acknowledgement even if he’s not the one physically removing them.

 

Then Yuuri’s getting fucked against the headboard, and he’s keening, pushing his hips back into that punishing pace.

 

Victor’s fingers are bruising on his hips as he slams in, and Yuuri’s own hands are scraping at the headboard, which is high enough that his cheek is pressed into it. Yuuri looks back over his shoulder, his mouth slack with moans, and sees Victor has his head bowed, is watching Yuuri take his cock, how Yuuri’s back arches so pretty. Yuuri groans and leans into it more.

 

He reaches back with one hand and pulls his cheeks further apart, really giving Victor a show. Victor hisses, and slams him bodily against the headboard, his chest now flush to Yuuri’s back.

 

“You think you’re clever, bunny?” Victor hisses in his ear. “Think I like to look at you holding yourself open for me? Desperate for my cock?”

 

The words are like shocks to Yuuri’s system, each one making him twitch and moan as he’s repeatedly driven up hard against the headboard, his body half crushed with it.

 

“Because I do, baby,” Victor murmurs, breaths sharp as his body works to slam into Yuuri’s, drags his mouth over Yuuri’s shoulder, lapping at his ink. He loops two fingers through the back of Yuuri’s collar, gives it a tug that has Yuuri clenching around him as he whimpers. “I like seeing you desperate for me. No one else can see you like this. It’s only for me. I would end _everything_ if anyone ever saw you like this.”

 

And this has Yuuri crying out, desperate with the power he hears in Victor’s voice. And he loves him so much, this monster of a man. There’s damnation in his lips and murder in his eyes and Yuuri _lives_ for it.

 

Victor pulls Yuuri’s hips back enough that he can get his hand between Yuuri and the headboard, can take his cock in hand. And Yuuri wails.

 

“That’s it,” Victor pants in his ear. “Come on my cock, baby, such a good boy.”

 

And then Yuuri’s shaking apart, getting fucked through his orgasm as Victor milks him. And the prostate stimulation along with his cock getting stripped makes it almost unbearably intense. Yuuri just keeps coming, so much of it as he gasps and pants against the headboard. And Victor’s biting his shoulder, coming deep inside him in a way that turns Yuuri on even more. Victor’s _inside_ him. And maybe next time he’ll bring a plug so he can keep Victor in him when he leaves. But the thought is only fleeting, he’s too busy practically passing out from his orgasm.

 

Eventually they still, Victor tipping them back and to the side so they lay diagonally upside down on the bed. They’re panting together, Victor’s breaths hot on the back of Yuuri’s neck.

 

After a moment, Victor sits up and pushes Yuuri fully onto his front. Yuuri huffs but doesn’t protest. Victor pulls his legs apart.

 

“Oh baby boy,” Victor murmurs, and Yuuri looks over his shoulder to see Victor gazing down at his entrance.

 

Yuuri knows he must be red and puffy with abuse, dripping cum and looking thoroughly used. Then Victor’s flipping him onto his back, parting his legs so he can he thumb at Yuuri’s hole, biting his lip as Yuuri feels more cum rushing out of him. Then Victor’s hoisting Yuuri’s legs over his shoulders and diving in. Yuuri yelps, but Victor eats himself out of Yuuri’s sensitive entrance so well that Yuuri comes again ridiculously quick.

 

Yuuri lays panting and dazed. He’s a mess; ruined makeup, hair in disarray, red marks on his hips from where Victor gripped him and tore his panties off. And covered in come of course.

 

Victor looms over him, looking smug. Yuuri plants a hand over his face and shoves.

 

“Hey!”

 

Victor bats his hand away and pouts, and how this man is the pakhan of one of the most dangerous organisations in the world is absurd. But of course it’s not really.

 

He kisses Yuuri deeply, and Yuuri can taste him on his mouth. It’s hot and makes the kiss messy.

 

“Need bath,” Yuuri says very eloquently when Victor breaks away.

 

Victor grins down at him, which should be enough of a warning for Yuuri to run, but Yuuri’s a little slow at the moment. So Victor’s able to hoist him bodily over his shoulder. Yuuri squawks, but then just goes limp, too tired to fight it. He does slap Victor on the butt though, as it’s right there. Yuuri’s noticed Victor has a fondness for carrying him anyway. Maybe it makes him feel strong and protective or some nonsense. Yuuri doesn’t think too much about it. But seeing as he quite likes it too, he doesn’t put up a fuss.

 

Victor keeps Yuuri on his shoulder even as he’s turning on the taps, humming merrily to himself. He spins around sharply so Yuuri coughs and then laughs, before he bounces over to the sink to retrieve the complimentary bubble bath from the shelf.

 

“Vityaaa…” Yuuri whines, because he feels sick, and Victor puts him down.

 

He holds Yuuri’s elbows as Yuuri sways slightly, dizzy as the blood rushes away from his head, then he kisses Yuuri sweetly, grins and goes to dump his usual ridiculous amount of bubblebath into the tub. Yuuri makes his way over to the bath, and Victor holds his hand as he steps in so Yuuri feels a little like a victorian lady getting into a carriage. It’s a rather nice feeling actually.

 

Then they’re settling back in their usual position, Yuuri leant back against Victor’s chest, playing with the bubbles and Victor’s fingers.

 

”I loved the collar,” Victor murmurs in Yuuri’s ear, making him grin. “You’re so good to me, moya zvezda.”

 

”You’re welcome,” Yuuri purrs back, feeling very spoilt as Victor starts to rub his shoulders.

 

They chat about stupid things, things that don’t matter because they don’t want to think about the real world. And Yuuri lets it soothe his soul, tricks himself into thinking that he’ll still have this come morning. It’s nice to play pretend.

 

They dress in fluffy bathrobes when they get out the tub, and Yuuri orders room service while Victor instantly strips him of the robe to give him back a massage. And he likes seeing his hands on Yuuri’s ink.

 

The room service is just some chocolate covered strawberries and more merlot, but it’s romantic and seeing as the room has a real fireplace they drag the bedding over to it and feed each other between sips of wine, lit only by the dancing flames.

 

It’s like a movie Valentine's, with all the best cliches and romance. It’s perfect. Yuuri lets himself bask in it, and they end up dozing off in front of the fire, but only for half an hour, too busy keeping themselves awake so they can have every possible moment together.

 

They rise along with the sun, shower together, press kisses to each others wet skin, end up having another round there under the spray. Yuuri shakes apart with his hands pressed to the cold glass, Victor’s arms secure around him, his lips on his neck and his whispered praise in his ear.

 

They dry off, dress, and Yuuri always feels like crying at this point. But he holds it in. He straps Victor’s holsters back into place, stands patiently as Victor does the same for him.

 

Yuuri’s head is bowed, like he’s in mourning, and Victor takes his chin, tilts his head up to press a kiss to Yuuri’s lips. And it’s so sweet, so intimate and tender that Yuuri feels it howl through him, a desperate cry of despair. And he wants to run from it, flee through the city, out to the woods so he can scream where no one will hear him but the silent trees. And maybe he’ll go to the ocean. And walk into the waves until his feet can’t find the seafloor and his heart can’t find this sadness.

 

They break apart, and Victor searches his eyes with his own sad blues. And those are the only oceans Yuuri will ever want to drown in.

 

“I love you,” Victor tells him, the words sincere and heavy as ever. Because they don’t have time to say them carelessly like other couples, toss a thoughtless “love you” over their shoulder as they head out to work.

 

Yuuri closes his eyes, lets the feeling brand his skin, his heart. Etch itself into his ribs and sew itself into his bone marrow. Because this ache is part of him too, and he’ll take it if it means he gets even one more moment with Victor.

 

“I love you too,” he says, opening his eyes so he can gaze into Victor’s as he tells him the words that mean everything, and nothing at all when compared to the vast, deep feeling they represent.

 

Victor smiles sadly, and Yuuri only ever wants to see him happy. Then Victor steps away, and it’s him that leaves first this time, so Yuuri sees the mask fall back into place as he steps out of the door, turns to go down the corridor.

 

And Yuuri sinks to the floor once the door’s closed and he can hide his tears. And he howls with it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes I’m sorry. But you know they get a happy ending after this so hey ho.
> 
> I recently found out prostate orgasms are usually dry. The more you know.
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who has left kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions.


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